


Advent

by Aida



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A little angst, Advent Calendar, Fluff, Holidays, Multi, Romance, silly things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:58:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 17,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My little take on the Hobbit Advent Calendar.</p><p>Because of reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I'd do this, because these are fun, if not frustrating at times. This first one, actually, was a bit of a pain, and not something I'm quite proud of, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

“What is Bofur doing?”

Kíli blinked out of his alcohol-induced haze at Bilbo, turning to see what he was talking about. Yule did this to him, made him feel fuzzy and romantic, every single year. This year was different, since he had someone to act such feelings out on, even if his intended didn’t like it when he did so publicly. 

Speaking of his intended, he finally managed to spot what had him so perplexed.

“Ah, I see he found the mistletoe.” He mused, snorting as he watched Bofur, clearly having imbibed too much mead, hold the sprig above Dori’s head and dip the mithril-haired dwarf down and into a kiss. 

“Yes, I know what mistletoe is.” Bilbo replied, still frowning. “But why does Bofur feel the need to hold it above someone’s head and then kiss them?”

“Don’t you know?” Kíli asked, scooting a little closer. “I thought you hobbitses knew everything about plants.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and stopped Kíli’s hand from landing on his knee. “I know that they’re poisonous, yes.” He replied. “Am I missing something?”

The dwarf prince hummed, finding Bilbo’s shoulder to be a wonderful pillow. “It’s something the Men came up with some time ago.” He explained. “If two people find themselves under a sprig of mistletoe, they have to kiss. Of course they also carry the stuff around so they can kiss whoever they choose, as Bofur is doing.”

“Why?”

“Luck?” Kíli pondered. “Truly, I can’t remember.”

Bilbo snorted. “You do have a muddled memory when you drink too much.” He said, slapping the wandering hand away again. “Enough of that!”

“I just want to cuddle…” Kíli whined, even as Bilbo took said hand and clasped it firmly in his own.

“I know for a fact that’s not the case at all. You just have to wait until you can have your present.”

Now that sobered Kíli up considerably. “Present?” He asked, seeing Bilbo’s lips quirk in a playful smirk. “What kind of present.”

“Well, you’ll just- Oh… Oh dear.” He said, motioning to the crowd again. “It seems Thorin’s angry about something.”

Kíli frowned at the change of topic, only to giggle when he saw his uncle several paces away from the mistletoe-wielding dwarf who was now coaxing quite the kiss from Dwalin. “Probably Bofur and his insistence on kissing everyone.” He said. “He’s quite possessive, my uncle.”

Bilbo looked down at Kíli. “So that’s where you get it from.”

Kíli scoffed. “Well, it’s not my fault that the great pompous elven king doesn’t-.”

“Happy Yule friends!” Bofur called, leaning over the table. His face was flushed, his hat was askew, and he had that blasted sprig in his fingers. “Lovely night for it! And oh, what’s this…?”

As Bofur moved to hold the sprig above Bilbo’s head, Kíli acted. He sat up and yanked Bilbo onto his lap, glaring up at the once-miner-and-toymaker.

“No!” He hissed. “Get your own hobbit to kiss! He’s mine!”

“Kíli!” Bilbo chastised as he squirmed in his lap, Bofur laughing at the sight.

“Aw, it’s just a bit of fun, your highness!” He cried, twirling the sprig. “I would think you of all princes would appreciate it!”

Kíli was just about to tell Bofur how much he certainly did not when Thorin stormed over, yanking the sprig out of the dwarf’s hand. He then proceeded to throw it onto the ground and stomp it into pulp.

“Oi, Thorin!” Bofur chastised. “No need to-!”

Thorin didn’t even cut in with a remark. He only yanked the toymaker to him and proceeded to claim his chattering mouth in a searing kiss that made Bilbo squeak and Kíli laugh. When Thorin pulled back, Bofur only blinked up at the king in shock.

“Have fun, uncle.” Kíli remarked playfully, even as Thorin grunted before hoisting Bofur over his shoulder and charging out of the dining hall. “About time, too. He’s been sitting on his laurels since I was a child.”

“Huh…” Bilbo hummed. “I never would’ve thought.”

“Now…” Kíli purred, hand finally resting on Bilbo’s thigh. “What about this present of mine?”

“Not until tomorrow.”

“Oh, orc’s balls.”


	2. Gingerbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit more fluffy-angsty. Because why not turn something delicious into something that can be kinda sad?

Dwalin hated this time of year.

Not because of the weather, when the snow could be relentless and the air so cold it could kill someone if they weren’t careful. Not because of the songs, and certainly not because of the food.

It was the gifts. 

He never really started hating the gift-giving part of Yule Time when he was young, roughly around the age of a tween. It was then that his parents stopped giving him toys and sweets and gave him more practical things, like armor and weapons. He was a growing dwarf, his father had told him, and would be a great warrior. Toys were meant for children, and no child could be a warrior. 

While he loved his father, he hated how the joy was practically ripped from him. He didn’t need to be gifted such things, since he could just buy them if he needed. He wanted the sweets and, while maybe not a toy, but something less lethal than a ruby-encrusted dagger. Of course, such changes didn’t end with his family, but it spread to everyone who knew him, or at least claimed to. Even Thorin had gifted him such things for a few years before he finally caught on that Dwalin didn’t like such gifts before following Balin’s example and giving him softer, sweeter things when no one was looking. 

And sure, being in Erebor was quite possibly one the sweetest things he could ever have for Yule after so long without a true home, Dwalin wasn’t looking forward to the plethora of metal he was about to receive for the holidays. 

“Dwalin!”

The large warrior immediately straightened at the sound of his name and discretely straightening his tunic at the owner of the voice that called for him. He turned and smiled a little at the sight of Bilbo, the former burglar, rushing down the hall with a wide smile.

“Master Baggins, a pleasure to see you this afternoon.” He greeted. “I hope your day’s been well?”

“Bilbo, Dwalin, please. I’ve told you that plenty of times! We’re friends, for Eru’s sake, so there’s no need for such labels and talk!” The hobbit chastised. “And it’s well enough, running away from two scamps that call themselves ‘royalty’.”

Dwalin quirked an eyebrow. “You’re running from the lads?” He asked. “Why?”

Instead of answering, Bilbo merely shoved a box into Dwalin’s hands. “This.” He stated. “Consider it an early Yule gift. Go on, open it!”

Dwalin hummed, inspecting the box a little before complying with his friend’s wishes. It was warm in his hands, and there was a faint, yet familiar sent about it. Finally, he removed the lid and bit back a small gasp. He would recognize those small, brown squares nestled in cloth anywhere.

“Gingerbread.” 

“Indeed! I managed to find my mother’s old recipe from the things I had sent here, so I figured I’d try and make them. Since I know how much you tend to love my biscuits, I thought you might particularly enjoy these.”

Dwalin barely listened to Bilbo, smiling down at the package as he felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He hadn’t seen, hadn’t smelled or even _tasted_ real, good gingerbread since before his mother passed away. She always made it especially for him, since he loved it so much. No one had ever dared to give him something like this since… well, ever. 

It was the best gift he could’ve ever received.

“Dwalin?” Said dwarf looked at Bilbo, seeing concern creasing his small face. “Oh… Are you alright?”

He nodded sharply, sniffling a little before smiling widely. “I am. Really, I am. I just…” He took a deep breath. “I haven’t had good gingerbread in decades. Thank you, Bilbo. Truly, thank you.”

Bilbo blinked, clearly taken aback as a flush crept along his cheeks and ears, averting his eyes a little before smiling. “Ah, well… You’re welcome.” He answered softly. “And really, no trouble at all.”

Dwalin huffed a little laugh before patting him on the shoulder. “Come.” He said, guiding Bilbo down the hall. “We shall go and eat these together.”

“Oh, Dwalin, I couldn’t! They’re a gift to you!”

“And as such, I shall decide who and how they will be eaten.” Dwalin stated. “Such a gift is always best shared with friends, and I think I remember the old cream sauce recipe my mother used to make to serve atop of her own.”

“Oh, that does sound delightful!”

“Indeed.”

Of course, the company caught whiff and promptly joined them for their impromptu feast. Dwalin didn’t mind as much as he probably should, sharing such treats with others. It helped that Bilbo gave him another box full the next day, and he continued to do so every year.


	3. Mulled Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rather stupid, silly, and just cracktastic. And because Thorin would have the largest be

Bilbo was never one to get drunk. Even when he was younger, he always had a sense of such things, and paced himself well. He did his best to avoid such situations, especially after he saw his parents get drunk at one party and seeing what unfolded afterwards. 

But the elves had gifted them wine, and Dori knew the perfect mulled wine recipe that “would suit the aromatic notes of this bouquet just splendidly”. It really was quite good, spicy, fruity, and slightly sweet. Unfortunately, it made him forget just how potent elven wine was. Which was why, on that horrifically bright and snowy morning after, Bilbo awoke with a pounding head, a dry mouth, and naked as the day he was born.

“Oh, sweet Eru’s tits!” He groused, scrubbing at his greasy face with his hand. 

“Such language. Hard to imagine it coming from our burglar.”

Bilbo immediately turned to the source of the voice, hangover temporarily forgotten as he took in the sight of a mussed, tired-looking, and very naked King Under the Mountain.

“Thorin.” He greeted weakly.

“Bilbo.” He greeted in kind. “I was going to give you an official tour of my quarters now that they’re finished, and at least I can scratch of the bedroom as one of the places to show you, now.”

He sat up a little himself, taking in the polished walls, extravagant furniture, and the luscious bedding that was draped over them. He also took in the fact that they weren’t the only ones in bed.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Bilbo asked weakly, flushing at the sight of Dwalin, only recognizable because he had seen that hairy, yet lush and perky ass bare before.

“Bits and pieces.” Thorin replied. “Like singing songs with Bofur, dancing on the table, _stripping_ on said table, and… Well, that’s the least of my concerns at the moment.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, take a peak under the covers and see for yourself.”

Bilbo felt the color drain from his already surely splotchy face before lifting up the covers and feeling his stomach drop. Yes, he was very much naked, but he also noticed a rather familiar dark-haired prince had taken to using his hip as a pillow.

“Oh, dear.”

“Yes, how did my nephew wind up in my bed along with you, Dwalin, and Bofur?” Thorin pressed, and Bilbo wondered how Bofur wound up in such a situation with them. “More particularly, why is he next to you?”

“Because he wanted to join Bilbo and Dwalin.”

They blinked, looking over to where Bofur was sprawled on the bed, looking surprisingly relaxed and not suffering. 

“Pardon?”

Bofur snorted. “You asked if he wanted to join and he said yes.” He stated, nodding towards Thorin. “You disapproved, though.”

“Of course I bloody well would! He’s my nephew, and they’re older! Not to mention courting!” Thorin hissed, wincing as his head seemed to throb. “But why my bed?”

“Because you wanted to watch and make sure they treated him right.” Bofur explained, frowning a little. “Then you thought it looked fun and decided to join them yourself, and of course I had to get involved.”

“What?” Thorin hissed, face going fuchsia.

“Oh _god_.” Bilbo wheezed out, hiding his fiery face in his hands and feeling Dwalin stir next to him.

Bofur watched the entire thing with a rather confused look on his face. “I don’t know what you’re both so concerned about.” He explained. “It’s a completely natural thing to do!”

“Having _sex_ with my nephew, best friend, said best friend’s intended, and my own intended is _not natural_!” Thorin snarled, and Bilbo heard Dwalin make a familiar snorting noise that signified that he was truly waking up.

“Wha-Have _sex_?” Bofur cried before bursting into laughter. “Oh! Oh, no! No, we didn’t have sex! It was a pillow fight!”

Everyone froze then, and Bilbo looked up.

“A… Pillow fight…?”

“Yeah! You were going on about how much fun you had with them as a child, and Dwalin decided he’d help you out. Then he asked the lads if they wanted to play, and only Kíli agreed to it. You watched them play, saw that they were having fun, and decided to join them! And of course I did!” Bofur explained. “It was all good, clean fun!”

“Then why are we naked!?” Bilbo asked hysterically.

“Because we got hot.” Was Bofur’s answered. “I swear, nothing sexual happened in this bed.”

Everyone let out a collected sigh of relief. Well, Dwalin just snuffled a bit more, since he was still trying to wake up, and Kíli snored.

“Actually, I amend that statement.” Bofur replied quickly before pointing at Thorin. “You did suck me off some time last night once they were all asleep.”

“Are you sure it was me?” Thorin asked darkly, his face going so red it was purple as Bilbo tried to discreetly cover his ears.

“Well, you did respond when I called out ‘Your Majesty’!” 

Bilbo snorted around the time Dwalin did, and he looked down at the dwarf as he finally propped himself up on an elbow. 

“Well, it was all in good fun, I suppose.” The large dwarf replied. “By the way, just to make sure everyone remembers, I won.”

“No!” Bilbo jumped, biting back a squeal as Kíli shot up from under the covers on his knees. “No, I won that one!”

“Oh, does it matter?” Bilbo asked, scrubbing at his face some more. “I think I would rather like some tea and some clothes. Particularly something soft.”

“Aye, me too.”

“Me three!”

“And me four! But oh, before I forget, Bilbo.” Kíli said before waggling his eyebrows. “Very nice.”

Bilbo was too busy rubbing his sore head to notice Dwalin cuffing the young prince on the ear.


	4. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo knows better than to go play in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off my Hobbit of Ered Luin series, where wee!Bilbo is taken in and raised by Thorin, who in turn becomes a protective papa bear of a dwarf.

The last time Bilbo had seen snowfall, his aunt and uncle forced him to stay inside to do chores, claiming that no little boy would go running through the muck and bringing it in the nice, clean house. He had tried to sneak out and play, and he was too sore to move at all after they caught him.

He didn’t dare go outside to play in the snow since then. 

So when the first white flakes began to fall in the city of Ered Luin, Bilbo only sat near the window and watched, raptured, as the small storm grew and the white substance began to collect on the streets. He didn’t know what Thorin thought, and he didn’t dare to try and press his luck either. Thorin was one of the few people in his life that was good to him, and he didn’t want to do anything that would press his luck.

He loved his papa, and he didn’t want to anger him. He didn’t want him to kick him out, especially not during such weather. 

“Bilbo?”

Said hobbit looked over to Thorin, seeing the dwarf frown in confusion. “Yes, Papa?” He asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No. No, my Bilbo, nothing’s wrong.” He replied, moving to sit next to him on the windowsill. “I’m just surprised you’re not outside, is all.”

Bilbo swallowed, pressing his lips together. “It’s snowing.”

“So? That hasn’t stopped you before.”

His back burned at the memory. “I was told not to go out to play in the snow.” He replied. “That I’d make everything dirty if I were to come in afterwards.”

He saw his Papa’s frown darken, and he fought the urge to flinch. He had learned early on that such looks were never meant for him, not ever him, and that he shouldn’t dare think such things. It was still unnerving to see such a look on the usually kind dwarf’s face.

“Well, that’s just silly.” He remarked. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

Bilbo just hummed, turning back to look at the snow as Thorin did the same. They watched it for a few moments before he felt Thorin’s eyes on him again.

“Bilbo.”

“Yes, Papa?”

“Would you like to go outside to play?”

He blinked, looking at Thorin. He was wary, because he knew about trick questions and the dangers involved in answering them incorrectly. But Thorin was his Papa, and he had a smile on his face. Surely, there was no wrong answer this time, right?

“Well…” He muttered, fidgeting a little. “It would be nice…?”

Thorin’s smile grew, eyebrow quirking just slightly. “Just ‘nice’?”

He giggled before he could help himself. “More than.” He admitted. “I… I would like to go outside to play in the snow.”

“Alright. Just let me get you something.”

Bilbo blinked, eyes widening as Thorin stood and moved to the coat rack. “R-Really?” He asked, getting up and rushing to his side. “I… I can go play?”

“Of course you can.” Thorin told him, kneeling down and throwing Bilbo’s small cloak over his shoulders. “You should go out. It’s good fun, or at least that’s what Fíli and Kíli tell me.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but grin, vibrating with excitement at the mere thought. He hadn’t played in the snow in ages! Not since before his parents passed, anyway. 

“In fact, tell you what,” Thorin continued, standing and getting his own cloak. “They should be done with their lessons for the day. Why don’t we go meet them, and then we can all play in the snow together.”

He smiled so wide his cheeks ached, even as his eyes stung slightly. It had been so long since anyone in his family played in the snow with him as well. And that was what Thorin was. What Fíli and Kíli were.

Family.

“I just wish I had boots for you. Don’t want your toes falling off.”

“I don’t need boots! I can be fine without them! Honest!”

“Alright, alright! Let’s go get them, then! Just slow down, Bilbo! The snow isn’t going to disappear anytime soon, and you can play in it anytime you wish. At a reasonable hour of course, and-! Bilbo! Bilbo don’t go too far ahead now!”

“Well, hurry up, Papa!”

“I’m hurrying!”


	5. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli has an old tradition, and Bilbo's confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda stumped with this, so that's why it's so short. :P

It was an old tradition passed on from his family. Something his mother did, his grandfather, and all those before him did. It was important to him, and that was why he took great pride in it this season. For it was the first time he could truly do it in a place of his own, especially since he shared it with someone he loved dearly.

“Kíli? Love?”

“Yes, buttercup?” The dwarf asked back, smirking when he got a soft scoff in reply. He did enjoy riling his hobbit up, and pet names were the best way to go about it. 

“Yes, quite, but…” Bilbo muttered, moving to stand over where Kíli was seated on the ground. “Why are you threading popped corn onto string?”

“It’s something my mother always did, and her father before her, and so on.” He explained, not really embarrassed but face flaming all the same. “They say it’s to show others how we are able to provide for our families, but truly I think it’s just because it’s fun… and a bit challenging.”

“Threading popped corn? A symbol and a challenge?”

Now Kíli’s face was truly heating. “I know it… might seem ridiculous, Bilbo.” He muttered, looking up at him quickly before turning back to his work. “But it’s important to me. So, please, let me keep this tradition going…?”

“Hey…” Kíli jumped a little as he felt hands touch his tense shoulders as Bilbo moved to sit next to him. “I did not mean to mock you, Kíli. I’m just trying to understand. Truly, I’m sorry.”

He looked at him. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Bilbo said, nodding. “Now, will you teach me? This seems like it’d be more fun to do with someone else.”

Kíli beamed. “Of course.”


	6. Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balin and Dwalin chat... but not before Dwalin has a laugh.

He heard it before he saw it.

The soft jingling that rang through the air and into his ears as he watched the trainees spar with each other. It was nice, at first, almost melodic in nature. But as it grew louder, it began to sound like some annoying insect that he wanted to bat away from his ears. 

Then it was practically at his ear before it finally stopped. “You missed lunch.”

Dwalin looked down at the source of the voice and immediately began to laugh, unable to control himself. Balin, his dear brother, the staunchest warrior and mind he had ever known, had bells braided into his beard. 

Despite his guffawing, Balin didn’t even flinch. “I don’t see what’s so funny, brother.” He stated. “I was merely commenting on the fact that you missed our weekly lunch, and now you laugh at me.”

“Forgive me, brother.” Dwalin managed out. “I did not think you were one for such joyous frock and grooming.”

His brother sniffed, jaw jutting and the bells tinkling. “It seems our mutual friend had shared an old tradition amongst his people with the two princes.” He explained. “Apparently, a bachelor would wear bells in his hair around Yule as a means of calling forth someone to celebrate with.”

“That doesn’t explain how they got in your beard.” Dwalin cut in.

“They attacked me in my sleep.” He replied, and Dwalin began to laugh again. “Enjoy this all you like, brother. But rest assured, you’ll be partaking in this tradition soon enough.”

“A likely story.” The warrior stated. “I have no one I want to, as you put it, ‘call’ to my bed.”

“I know that’s patently untrue.”

The humor was immediately lost, and he straightened. “No, I do not.” He explained, tone erring on firm. “And if you’re referring to whom I think you are, I’m afraid he’s already spoken for.”

“He turned down Thorin’s advances repeatedly, Dwalin.” Balin informed, and the older dwarf watched his brother straighten. “He has done so even before we reached Erebor.”

There was a long pause, and he watched as Dwalin’s jaw twitched and clenched as if deep in thought.

“He was also wearing bells in his hair this morning.”

**xxx**

“Why, Master Dwalin, you have some lovely bells in your beard this evening.”

“As do you, Master Baggins.”


	7. Wrapping Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has questions, Bofur's the wise one, and Thorin has a dirty mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more holiday-themed "Hobbit of Ered Luin" goodness for everyone. Because Bofur and Thorin as parents make me giggle, and Bilbo is adorable.

“Uncle Bofur?”

“Yes, Bilbo?”

“Why can’t I help Papa?”

Bofur bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Bilbo play with his toy dragon. “Why do you want to help him?”

“He said he was wrapping presents, and that it was going to be difficult.” The little hobbit explained. “I asked if I could help, but he wouldn’t let me. I don’t know why, though. Mom used to ask for my help with wrapping presents, and it was a lot easier!”

Bofur smiled at Bilbo, happy that he was so at ease and comfortable that he was talking about his past in the Shire all the while squashing all of the miner’s soldiers. Such a display shouldn’t be adorable, but it was. A good part, he assumed, was because of Bilbo. Bilbo, the little hobbit whose hair was touching his shoulders with braids aplenty. Who was once a frightened little hobbit in a sea of strangers, was now a confident young lad amongst family and friends.

“There’s a couple of reasons for that, my lad.” He explained. “One is because he’s wrapping gifts for everyone, including you.”

Bilbo’s eyes lit up a little, as if surprised at the prospect. It gave Bofur a little twinge in his chest that he would get so easily shocked and surprised over his family doing such things for him. No child should forget such simple things. Of course, with the sheer amount of gifts Thorin got for his little boy, Bofur was sure Bilbo would be drowning in the experience well after next Yule. 

“And second… Well…” Bofur began, trying to think of a good way of explaining such things.

“Mahal’s fiery asshole!” Thorin cut in, well before he could try.

Both the miner and the child jumped at the proclamation, and Bofur immediately drew Bilbo into his lap. He smiled when Bilbo went willingly, snuggling close before tilting his head up in confusion.

“Well, as you heard, your papa has a quick temper about these sorts of things.” Bofur hurried to explained. “It’s best not to get in his way… And to cover your ears.”

Bilbo hummed curiously, even as Bofur’s mind flashed to a few moments before he sat to join the little hobbit in play. How he saw Thorin in a sea of wrapping paper and ribbon, looking at everything like he would an army of orcs. He even remembered the look, and the growl, he sent when Bofur kindly offered his assistance. 

He knew Thorin was going to need a massage after his task was done, or at least mostly so. And perhaps, afterwards, he would get his happy, romantic evening.

Bofur had to make sure to convince Bilbo to go to bed early.

“Bofur?”

“Yes, lad?”

“What’s a ‘fiery asshole’?”

“None of your business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because I too have troubles wrapping gifts. Even when I try to cut things as straight as possible, use lots of tape, and all that jazz.
> 
> Always comes out looking like a five-year-old did it.


	8. Crackers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili's never encountered these before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Kilbo this time. Because of reasons. 
> 
> Also: I'M AN AMERICAN AND I HAVE NEVER ENCOUNTERED A CRACKER IN PERSON. FORGIVE ME FOR ANY INACCURACIES.

“Bilbo, are you almost done?”

“No.” Said hobbit replied. “I’m still setting the table.”

He then heard Kíli let out a long breath and shuffle about, obviously anxious. Of course, Bilbo was too. It would be the first time in a long time that the entire Company would be together in Bag End, and it would be around Yule, of all times. Kíli was especially anxious about it, taking it out on hunting, attempts at laundry, and sex. He didn’t mind, not really, and especially the last one. But there was only so much he could take.

“You know,” Bilbo said, looking up at his dwarf as he slouched against the doorframe. “You could help set the table.”

Kíli instantly perked up. “Alright, I can do that.” He said. “What should I start with first?”

“Well, you can start with the crackers. Put them on the plates, and I _mean_ put them on the plates. No tossing them about!” He instructed, fussing over a napkin.

“Erm… Okay…” Kíli muttered, looking around in confusion. “Where are the crackers?”

Bilbo huffed, looking at him. “They’re right behind you.” He explained, causing him to flush and turn. “Really, love, they’re so close they could’ve bitten you in the-.”

“These aren’t crackers!” Kíli cried, holding a basket and turning one of them in his hand. “These are little presents!”

“No, those are crackers.” The hobbit explained slowly, straightening. 

“ _No_. Crackers are like cram! Those little bready discs that you put meat and cheese on!” The dwarf argued, even as Bilbo walked around the table to stand next to him.

“Well, yes, that’s true. But these are crackers you use at a party. It’s something fun one does with friends.” He explained, giving Kíli a curious look. “You’ve never seen these before?”

Kíli, now curious himself, shook his head. “No. Not even amongst Men…”

Bilbo made a noise in the back of his throat before taking the basket from his arm and grabbing the other end of the cracker in Kíli’s hand. “Well, we have extra.” He said. “Alright, stand back!”

He did, and Bilbo tugged sharply at his own end, causing the cracker to explode with a loud popping noise and a burst of color. It also caused Kíli to squack before he looked at the glittering papers floating in the air and down to the ground.

“See?” Bilbo said, still smiling as Kíli seemed to marvel at the glitter, the candies, and the paper. Immediately he bent down and grabbed the largest piece of paper, a lovely shade of blue, and unfolded it to reveal a crown.

“Oh, that’s magnificent!” Kíli breathed, grinning. “I mean, the banging was a bit of a shock, but that’s wonderful!”

Bilbo shrugged. “It’s just a fun little party favor. And look!” He said, placing the paper crown on Kíli’s head. “A crown fit for a prince!”

Kíli giggled (and truly it was such a sweet sound) as he touched it. “Do they all have one of these?” He asked, grin widening when Bilbo hummed an affirmative. “Oh, I can’t wait for the company to open them!”

“Let’s hope Thorin gets a pink one.” Bilbo quipped, and Kíli laughed so brightly that he couldn’t help but pull him in for a kiss.

Later, much later, the company would arrive and join them for a proper feast, with crackers and all.

And yes, Thorin did get a pink one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bifur wanted the pink one, though.
> 
> Also, thinking of maybe making the next one a modern AU one. Emphasis on thinking.


	9. Carols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin sings, until he doesn't. Then he sings again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Dwilbo fic that was mostly therapeutic for me. For reasons.

Despite what many people might think otherwise, Dwalin used to be very musically inclined. Not by his choice, mind. He made the mistake as a child of actually trying to sing in music class and his teacher went and told his parents. From that point until high school, his mother would force him to take choir, voice lessons, basically do anything that would require him to sing. At first, he didn’t mind, for he did love to sing. Then it became a chore, and one he didn’t like to do. He tried to get out of it, of getting out of anything to do with singing and try to explore other interests, but his mother strictly refused.

“It’s either the school choir or the church choir!” She would snap. “Nothing else!”

She was heartbroken when he promptly stopped doing anything musical after he graduated high school. 

But now he was done with schools, working a job he loved despite the dangers (and despite his mother’s protests, god rest her soul). He had settled down, with a loving partner and an army of a family that he loved despite the stresses and the problems. Despite everything, he hadn’t sang a note for years.

Of course, that changed.

Bilbo had finished with decorating their home (his childhood home and the place Dwalin had called his own for only a few months now), and despite Dwalin doing most of the heavy lifting, he was plum tuckered and insisted that they have a cozy night in with takeout, wine, cookies, and old holiday movies. 

“I wish I could sing.” He had stated wistfully as a scene had a singing choir in it appeared on screen. “Every time I tried, I always sounded like a dying cat.”

Dwalin scoffed, and Bilbo nudged his stomach with his elbow. “It’s true!” He cried. “I never could!”

“That’s patently untrue.” The larger man remarked, grinning. “I’ve heard you plenty of times, you don’t sound like a cat, let alone a dying one.”

It was Bilbo’s turn to scoff. “That’s humming.” He said. “There’s a difference.”

“It’s lovely.” Dwalin told him, planting a kiss on his curly head and hearing him grumble.

“Can you sing?”

He let out a sharp breath, leaning his head back. “I used to.” He explained, like he had many times before. “But I haven’t sang in years. Probably really terrible at it, now.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Bilbo stated, and Dwalin groaned. “Oh, stop that silliness! Come on, just one little song. That’s all I ask!”

Dwalin sent Bilbo a look, but the smaller man was using a look of his own. A look he used when he was asking for something, and one that always made him cave in to his demands.

“Please?” He asked, look waivering slightly. “Unless… You know, if you don’t want to. I can understand if you don’t. Just… Well, I’ve never heard you, so I…”

Guilt gnawed at him, but that was the furthest thing from Dwalin’s mind. Because Bilbo didn’t just ask him to sing (or demand, as people would). He said that he didn’t _have_ to. Telling him that he would like to hear him, but if he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to. That was something no one ever told him before.

“No.” Dwalin said, clearing his throat before continuing. “No, I… I want to… But it’s bound to be god awful.”

Bilbo just smiled. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Dwalin huffed a little, using the rest of his wine to moisten his throat and clearing his throat a few more times before he began singing softly, choosing a simple Christmas carol. 

In Dwalin’s mind that still retained knowledge from years of classes and lessons, it _was_ terrible. He was off key repeatedly, and his voice would crack from trying to remember how to sing. 

But when he looked at Bilbo’s face, he didn’t care.

“That was beautiful.” He told him after, tears in his eyes as he gave Dwalin a chaste kiss. “Absolutely beautiful. You should sing more often.”

“Only if you do.” Dwalin told him, causing the smaller man to scoff before he seemed to pause in thought.

“How about… We sing together?” 

“Deal.” He answered, giving Bilbo a little squeeze. “As long as there’s no caroling involved.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Thank goodness.”


	10. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin return from a long stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Kilbo'd, mostly because I wanted to touch base on a little headcannon of mine: Kíli can't do house things, like cooking and cleaning.

Bilbo let out a breath of relief when Erebor finally came into view. After being gone for so long, it was nice to see his mountain home again. It still made him giggle a little, calling a mountain his home, even though it had been for a few years now. Truly, it was a blessed relief to finally be out of Thranduil’s realm and headed back to his family. He also prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t have to act as a referee between the Elf King and the King Under the mountain for quite some time.

“You’re smiling.”

Bilbo turned and directed his smile to his friend. “I’m just glad,” He told Thorin. “That we’re finally home.”

Thorin smiled in kind. “Indeed.” He said. “Of course, at this point, any place is better than Mirkwood.”

Bilbo huffed. “Now, be nice!” He scolded. “Thranduil really is quite nice when he’s not trying to keep us prisoner.”

The King scoffed. “Of course you would think so.”

“Watch it.” Bilbo warned. “Elf ears are notoriously good at picking up noise. He might hear you and choose to come here.”

“Do not even tease about such things.”

Bilbo laughed, pulling his cloak closer to his body as the wind picked up. Winter was fast approaching, and there was already a sprinkling of snow on the ground. One of the things he was happy about was finally being indoors and out of the cold. 

“We’ll be home soon.” Thorin assured, seeing Bilbo fuss.

“I know.”

“Soon” wasn’t nearly quick enough, in Bilbo’s opinion. By the time they reached the gate, the torches were lit and the wind’s chill was biting his ears quite terribly. The guards hardly questioned them, and they let them in with little fuss. Once they took care of their ponies and Thorin made the proper arrangements, they all but ran towards the mountain’s entrance, both of them.

They were, of course, greeted there. Or rather, Thorin was greeted with kind words and gentle embraces. Bilbo was greeted by his husband, who had ran through the snow and tackled him, and he hardly had time to get his balance back so they wouldn’t fall.

“Kíli, you silly dwarf!” He chastised, even though his embrace was tight. “What are you thinking, running about here in practically nothing?”

“Can’t I greet my husband?”

“Not when you can freeze to death!”

Kíli only laughed, pulling back some, wearing his tunics, breeches and boots. Nothing that was appropriate for gallivanting in the winter chill. 

“Well, I thought you’d appreciate it!” He explained, holding Bilbo close and guiding him inside. “That, and you’re just as bad, walking about with nothing on your feet!”

“My feet can handle it.” Bilbo scolded. “You can’t.”

“It’s only been a few moments!”

“That’s enough to catch a cold.”

“You’ll just have to warm me up then.” Kíli whispered, and Bilbo fought the urge to tell the prince that he’d do no such thing if he got sick. “Now, come. I have something special for you in our quarters.”

Bilbo managed to greet the rest of his friends before Kíli steered him off. He felt bad about it, for it had been a while, but Thorin seemed to be in a similar situation as Bofur seemed to have done the exact same thing as Kíli not that long ago. Later, he assured himself. He would properly greet them later, but he would spend time with his husband first. 

The mountain was warm, but it wasn’t nearly as warm as their quarters. In fact, they were so warm it was almost stifling. Bilbo would’ve chastised Kíli if it weren’t for the fact that it felt so incredible. 

Kíli had yanked off his cloak and outer wears, leaving him in his shirt and trousers, and ushered him towards his old armchair before he disappeared towards the kitchen area. Bilbo eased into the armchair, but with immense trepidation. For Kíli was in the kitchen, and he was probably trying to make something. Kíli, who almost burned a mountain down for trying to do so before. Who was banned from doing anything similar because of it.

Then he emerged with two steaming mugs, urging one into Bilbo’s hand. “Go on.” He said. “It’s quite good, trust me.”

Bilbo stared at the thick, brown liquid with some trepidation before taking a cautious sip. Something he did whenever Kíli made something.

This time, however, he didn’t have to feign delight. “Oh, hot chocolate!” He breathed, humming as he took a bigger sip this time. “Oh, this is heavenly. I haven’t had this since I was a tween! However did you learn to make this?”

Kíli flushed, even though he seemed delighted. “Bombur taught us the other day.” He explained. “I made sure to pay special attention.”

“’Us’?”

“Fíli, Bofur, and I.” He explained. “We all wanted to learn.”

Bilbo grinned. “Well, it’s wonderful.” He said. “Thank you, love.”

Kíli preened and took his usual seat by the fire: Bilbo’s lap, though he put most of his weight on the side so as not to crush his hobbit. As they sipped, they cuddled close and watched the fire crackle.

“Welcome home, Bilbo.”

“It’s good to be back, Kíli.”


	11. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More papa!Thorin and wee!Bilbo goodness, really. Actually, it's more like papa!Bofur/papa!Thorin and wee!Bilbo goodness.

Bilbo was cold. 

It was a rare thing, despite living so close to a mountain, and with Thorin, who was very much a stickler when it came to making sure everyone was as warm and as comfortable as can be. Bofur was as well, and he had given Bilbo a quilt to make sure that he was always nice and toasty in bed.

But it was the middle of the night, and he had leant his quilt to Kíli because he got sick, and he had yet to return it. Now Bilbo could feel the chill creeping in and it caused him to shiver.

He had slept in colder conditions, and with less coverings before. But he had grown used to sleeping with at least some warmth after going so long without. Sometimes he wished his papa wasn’t such a stickler, and his uncle wasn’t so nice. That way, he wouldn’t remember how truly miserable it could be with just a little cold.

Eventually, he got up, taking the toy Bifur had given him some time ago to help protect him, and he decided to venture out to where the main fire was. If anything, it was bound to be warmer in there. He just hoped he didn’t disrupt anyone on the way.

He could sleep there for the night and then wait to ask for his quilt back in the morning. Hopefully Kíli’s cold would be cured by then. 

As he walked down the hall, he saw the familiar glow and an even more familiar shadow being cast. By the time he reached the main room, he was able to clearly make out his papa as he stoked the flames.

Biting his lip, Bilbo made to duck away. He would wait for Thorin to leave before going closer. He didn’t want to disrupt him, after all. 

“Bilbo?”

The little hobbit jumped, holding his dragon tighter as he peered up at Thorin, a frown on his face.

“Bilbo, what are you doing up?” He asked, crouching down in front of him. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but shiver. “I was cold.”

“Cold? Really?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo nodded. “Well, I know that it can be a little cold in there, sometimes, but why don’t you use the quilt Uncle Bofur gave you?”

He ducked his head. “Kíli has it.”

There was a bit of a pause at his response. “Why does your cousin have your quilt?”

“Because he had a cold.” Bilbo said, fidgeting. “I wanted to help him get better, so I gave him my quilt. So he could be warm and not be cold.”

He dared a glance at his Papa, relaxing a little at seeing his soft expression.

“Well, that was nice of you, Bilbo, my boy.” He said, ruffling Bilbo’s curly head and causing him to giggle. “But that leaves you in a bit of a predicament, doesn’t it?”

“I… I was going to sleep by the fire tonight.” He explained. “Is that okay? I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

“It won’t be very comfortable.”

“It’ll be warm, though.”

Thorin hummed a bit before he stood. “I think I’ve got a better idea.” He said, bending down and picking Bilbo up. “Come along.”

Bilbo squirmed, but enjoyed his papa’s presence. Thorin was always so warm, and he smelled so nice. Being held by Thorin was like being home, which made a lot of sense, actually.

Because he _was_ home.

Thorin opened the door to the room he shared with Bofur, causing the miner to stir. As he quietly shut the door, Bofur gave them a rather peculiar look.

“Bilbo?” He asked. “What are you doing with Bilbo?”

“He’s cold.” Thorin explained, kicking off his shoes before heading towards the bed. “He was about to go sleep by the fire, but I have a better plan.”

“Ah.” Bofur replied, scooting back and giving them room. “But what happened to the quilt I gave you, Bilbo?”

“Kíli has it.” Bilbo said, kneeling on the bed. “He had a cold, so I gave it to him so it could warm him up.”

Bofur chuckled at that, rubbing his face as Thorin scooted into the bed. “Well, that’s rather nice of you, Bilbo.” He told him before looking at Thorin. “So that’s why we have a third in bed tonight?”

“Indeed.” Thorin explained.

“Very well! Tuck in, Bilbo!” Bofur said, grinning as Bilbo slithered down underneath the covers, wriggling so he could get comfortable, stiffening slightly when both Bofur and Thorin wrapped their arms around him. “Is this okay?”

They felt Bilbo nod. “Yes. I just-… Are you sure this is okay?”

“Absolutely.” Thorin assured him, brushing some stray curls from his forehead before placing a soft kiss there. “Now sleep.”

And Bilbo did, surrounded by warmth and family, with a small smile on his face.


	12. Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori goes to Bilbo for help, and Kíli laughs at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Kilbo and Orinshield for you guys~

Kïli was laughing. On the floor, rolling around like a fool, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Bilbo frowned at him for a bit before turning back to Ori, who looked so red it was close to purple.

“So…” The hobbit said, drawing out the word as he looked at the catastrophe in his hands. “Do you mind telling me exactly what happened again? Slower, this time, please. So I can understand what went wrong.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“Nothing to apologize for. Just wish to know what happened.”

Ori squirmed, facing going even darker, if that were possible. “I-I just wanted… Thorin’s been so _busy_ lately! It would be the first real night together since his promotion! And I wanted it to be special, especially since it’s the holidays, and…!”

“And you thought lighting a tablecloth on fire was special!?” Kíli cried, finally pushing himself off the floor and causing Bilbo to glare at his partner.

“Kíli-.”

“Oh, I bet it looked _so_ romantic!”

“Kee-.”

“Such an atmosphere! Romance, with a hint of _danger_!”

“Lamb roast.” Bilbo stated, loudly but firmly, which caused Kíli to shut right up. “This past Easter. Two hours before the guests arrived.”

The younger man looked properly chastised, and he mumbled a few words in apology before he rushed out of the room.

“Easter? I was there, and it didn’t look like anything happened.” Ori stated. “What happened?”

“The first roast we tried to make was under Kíli’s care, and he thought he could speed up the cooking process by raising the temperature.” Bilbo explained. “At seven-hundred degrees, if I hadn’t managed to find another one when I did, we would’ve had lamb croquettes for Sunday dinner.”

Ori giggled and Bilbo smiled.

“He does try, and he means well.” The older man continued. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t notice the smell. Practically everyone else did.”

Ori outright laughed at that before clearing his throat to calm down. He already felt immensely better.

“Now, maybe you can try and explain to me what happened?”

Ori didn’t feel so good, again. “I… I wanted to have a nice, romantic, candlelight dinner.” He explained, sounding absolutely miserable. “I lit the candles to get them going so I could continue cooking, but when I came back… I guess the wind knocked one over, and… well…”

He quickly motioned towards the tablecloth in Bilbo’s hands. The wet, miserable-looking thing that was once a lovely berry red, but was now mostly a sooty-black and filled with burnt holes. 

“Well, that explains the wax, I guess.” Bilbo muttered, rubbing a spot of the substance.

“So, can you fix it?” Ori asked, face falling when he shook his head.

“No, I can’t.” He said. “I’m afraid this thing has seen the last of its days. However…”

Ori blinked, frowning in confusion when Bilbo walked away. He heard some shuffling before he returned, another tablecloth in hand, the exact same shade and make.

“Consider this an early Christmas present.” Bilbo told a beaming Ori. “Try to make sure this one lives a good, long life.”

“Oh, thank you, Bilbo!” Ori said, clutching the tablecloth to his chest. “But how did you happen to have one of these?”

Bilbo smirked. “Why do you think Thorin stopped by several months ago?” He asked, causing Ori to guffaw. “Of course, he didn’t _burn_ that one. I decided to stock up, just in case.”

“Well, thank you again.” Ori said between giggles. “And I promise I won’t tell. If you won’t, that is.”

“Mum’s the word.” Bilbo said as he walked Ori to the door. “Oh, and one last thing, Ori.”

“Yes?”

“More food and romance. Less candlelight.” The older man stated, sending a flushing Ori one last beaming smile. “Have a good evening! See you at Christmas dinner!”


	13. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really holiday-related. Sorry about that.
> 
> More Hobbit of Ered Luin stuff, though.

Bilbo lost his home at a young age. Lost it when his parents died and he was too young to go on living on his own. Family said he would have a new home, but that place with those people was never home for him. It was a place where they gave him little to eat, hardly let him go outside to play, and a place where he would be locked away in various cubbies if they could no longer stand the sight of him. A lashing if he misbehaved, and several if he made a mess, or slipped up with something. It was a prison, a cold, dark place that made him miserable.

He left the moment they slipped up. The moment they forgot to lock his room for the night. He left with the intentions of just getting as far away from that place as possible, and not at all with trying to find a new home, for he was sure he would never find one. How could he? When the only home he had was in his father’s laugh and his mother’s hugs and kisses.

Then he met Thorin.

At first, he was terrified. What horrible trial would he have to go through now? What misery would he have to live through again?

But Thorin merely gave him a biscuit. Talked to him, and then offered his place as a brief respite. He carried Bilbo there, and for a moment, he thought he was being held by his father again.

He was given food, water, and had a lovely hot bath for the first time in ages. Given a salve to treat his hurts and a warm, soft bed to sleep in. He was given new, clean clothes and a new brush for his foot hair.

But most importantly, he was given kindness. He thought it was more, but didn’t dare to think so. He was just a kind man, Thorin. Just helping out a lost faunt before he went on his way. He didn’t care about Bilbo, or at least, not enough to want to keep him.

He didn’t want to be kept, at first. But as time went on and he stayed and healed, he began to truly want to be. Because it felt like home, with the laughter of two young brothers who wanted nothing more than to play with him all day. It was with the large, gruff warrior that would hug him and tell him whimsical tales of old, and his older brother, who helped with his words and numbers. Most of all, it was with Thorin, who was nothing but kind to him. Who opened his arms willingly to him. Who soothed his nightmares and gave him more than he could imagine.

But Bilbo wasn’t his, not really. He was a hobbit, and he was a dwarf. Surely Thorin would want a dwarf as a son and not some little hobbit boy he found in the woods. He tried his best not to make Thorin his family. Tried not to make the mountains his home.

He would slip, sometimes. Forget that they weren’t his family, his cousins, brothers, or parents. Forget that Thorin wasn’t his father, or “Papa”. Sometimes the truth would settle in, and he would remember that he would one day have to leave. That one day Thorin would sent him off with the best of luck. And it hurt. Because he so desperately wanted them to be his family, even though they probably didn’t want him. No one wanted Bilbo Baggins, after all.

Then, one night, it all changed.

At first, it was a gentle pondering. How long was he really welcome to stay? Did Thorin need him out of the way sooner rather than later? He was healed, after all, and he was surprised Thorin didn’t bring it up. When Thorin told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he wished, he fought down the little hope that, perhaps, he was wanted. Because he was probably trying to be nice. Tell him he could stay as long as he wanted, so long as it wasn’t for forever, which was what he really wanted.

But then Thorin pressed on, and he told him the things Bilbo had been trying to fight hope for for so long. That he _wanted_ him to stay. That he _was_ family. That he hoped that Bilbo thought they were family too, and he could truly belong.

After so long with going without the things he wanted most, he began to cry. He called for his Papa, for Thorin, hoping that his childlike love wouldn’t be turned away. And it wasn’t. In fact, it was welcomed by strong arms and a solid warmth. Of soothing words and gentle, fuzzy kisses. He asked, begged, to be allowed to stay. To be a part of his family. And Thorin took him in fully and without restraint.

He began to sport braids in his wildly growing hair. Began to wear tunics instead of proper shirts. Began to learn about secret languages and traditions instead of recipes and farming.

Bilbo wasn’t a proper hobbit anymore, but that didn’t matter. For he had a family again.

He had found home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have actually been working on a new chapter for the recent fic in this verse, but it's a bit... not-so-nice.


	14. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's past curfew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fic based off Good Seed. For reasons.

When Bilbo was young, he never stuck with the curfew his parents had given him. He always thought it was ridiculous, having to be home at a certain time, well before any real fun could begin. He might not have been what was considered “good” in those days, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was smart and responsible, with only a few slip ups that left him sleeping in a cell instead of his bed. It drove his parents up the wall, and they would try to chastise him. Tell him how worried they were, and that he could’ve been killed. Silly, ridiculous things, in Bilbo’s opinion. Especially when his father tried to give him examples of what could’ve happened, and all of them were just too far out there to be believable. 

Now that Bilbo is older, however, he understands why his parents fretted so. Because there he was, sitting in the living room in his housecoat, feet bouncing rapidly and fighting the urge to look through the window or check the time. Because Frodo, his dear, sweet nephew that he had taken in as his own when his parents died, wasn’t home yet. And it was well past his curfew.

Heavy footsteps alerted him of his husband marching down the stairs in the slow, heavy way they did whenever he had just woken up. He was clearly looking for him, but Bilbo would not be moved. 

“What are you doing still up?” He heard Dwalin slur as he walked into the living room. “It’s well past midnight.”

“Yes, and did you notice something?” Bilbo asked, looking up at Dwalin, able to make him out in the darkness by the blue in his beard.

“Er… no.”

“Frodo is quite absent from this house.”

Dwalin froze before cursing tiredly. “Are you sure he didn’t sneak in?”

“Absolutely. I have the ears of a fox, after all.” Bilbo hissed. “And he’s out there, with _Merry and Pippin_ of all people, in the middle of winter!”

“It’s December.”

“He could be in a lot of trouble! Trouble that he couldn’t talk himself out of! And _believe me_ , I know how much the temperature dropped between the time he presumably got to that concert and now, and he could be in a ditch right now, for all we know!” Bilbo raved, pacing around as he had stood form his seat ages ago.

“This is why the lad needs a mobile.” Dwalin groused, not even bothering to look at Bilbo as he sputtered as he took a seat on the couch. “Now, sit here, please? No use fretting now. Either Frodo or the cops will be arriving soon. Hopefully.”

Bilbo grumbled before taking said seat, being pulled into Dwalin’s lap with little fuss. “I don’t want him to be hurt, Dwalin.”

“He’s a smart lad, our Frodo.” The larger man grumbled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “I’m sure he’s fine, and he has a good explanation as to why-.”

He cut himself off when he heard the door open and close, and he fought the urge to groan when Bilbo immediately stood and marched to the entryway.

“Where the hell have you been!?” The small man shouted as Dwalin forced himself to get up and try to prevent any damage.

“I’m sorry!” He heard Frodo cry. “Believe me, I didn’t plan it out like this!”

“Do you know how much trouble you’re in!?” Bilbo continued to rave. “Do you know how worried we were!? We didn’t know if you were stuck somewhere, or if you were _dead_ -!”

“Bilbo, calm down.” Dwalin said as he walked in, wincing at the light and how much faux leather Frodo was wearing.

“Don’t you tell me to-!”

“Perhaps if Frodo can explain what happened,” He continued on over Bilbo’s shouting. “Then we can go from there.”

Frodo let out a tired sigh. “After the concert, it was a bit chaotic, and it took me ages to get to the car. By then, Pip seemed to have located this guy, Barry or whatever, and he went with him and Merry to go smoke. Since they were the ones with the ride, and I didn’t have the keys, I had to take a cab to go home!” He explained.

“And you expect us to believe that?” Bilbo growled and Frodo shrugged.

“If you don’t believe me, ask the cab driver.” The young man stated, throwing the door open and revealing said cab. “He’s waiting for his fifty bucks.”

Dwalin sighed, forcing a smile and waving at the cabbie as he did the same. “I’ll get the money.” He said, heading for the kitchen. “Don’t kill each other before I get back!”

“So all this happened, and you didn’t even _think_ to call?” Bilbo hissed when Dwalin was out of earshot.

“I didn’t have one, nor would anyone let me borrow one!” Frodo shouted. “I tried to find a payphone, but the only one I could find was occupied. I didn’t bother to see how, and I just wanted to get home!”

“A likely story!” Bilbo hissed, hearing the house phone ring and stomping towards it. “I can’t wait to see what story Merry or Pippin have to tell!”

With that, he yanked the phone off it’s stand and answered it. “Hello!?” He shouted before clearing his throat and attempted to calm himself. “He-Hello?... Yes, this is he… Oh…? Oh, it’s alright. Just hurry up, that’s all we ask.”

With that, he hung up, raking his fingers through his hair just as Dwalin emerged, donning his coat and a pair of pants, money in hand.

“Who was it?” Dwalin asked.

“That was Merry.” Bilbo explained tersely. “Apparently, Frodo, you’re safe and on your way home as we speak.”

Dwalin snorted. “I’ll pay the cabbie, then.”

“And we’ll make sure to get reimbursed later.” Bilbo huffed, staring at Frodo, who was biting back a grin.

“Well?”

“I will let it go. _This_ time.” Bilbo stated. “You’ll only be grounded for a week instead of seventeen, and perhaps you’ll be getting the phone for Christmas after all, but it will only have the bare necessities!”

Frodo’s expression both rose and fell roughly at the same time. “But Uncle Bilbo-!”

“ _Don’t_ you dare try and ask for more right now, young man!” Bilbo snapped, jabbing his finger in the direction of the stairs. “Now go to your room!”

Frodo sighed dejectedly. “Well, Merry fucking Christmas to you, too.”

“Language!”


	15. Roaring Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli tries to help his husband out.
> 
> Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Kilbo where Kíli tries, and fails. But at least he tries.

“Kíli?” Bilbo called from his spot in the kitchen, for it was far too quiet in his smial. While quiet could be nice, it only spoke for trouble when the dwarf prince was involved. For Kíli was only quiet when he was up to something. “Kíli, what’s going on?”

Still, he got no response. 

Eventually he huffed, leaving his spot in the kitchen and marching down the hall, hoping to find him and make sure he did nothing wrong.

“Kíli, they’re going to be here any minute!” Bilbo stated. “Whatever you’ve got going on is going to have to…”

He trailed off, blinking, seeing Kíli beginning to stand from his spot in front of the fireplace. The fireplace that was out and cold the last he saw it, and was now a home for a rather impressive roaring fire.

“Sorry I didn’t respond, Bilbo. I was busy.” The prince said, smiling a little and wiping his sooty hands off his trousers. “Well, what do you think? Nice cozy place to sit and talk before dinner, don’t you think?”

“Well, yes, it’s very nice indeed.” He responded, smiling a little. “Thank you. Though I was going to do it myself.”

“Well, this way, you don’t have to worry.” Kíli said, pulling Bilbo close. “That, and it’ll be nice and toasty for them when they arrive.”

“Hmm, good thinking…” He hummed, allowing Kíli to give him a kiss or two. All before the fire seemed to go brighter, and he pulled away with furrowed brows that immediately lifted at the sight. “Er… Kíli? Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“You do know that a fire _isn’t_ supposed to go _out_ of the fireplace… right…?”

“Oh, warg tits!”

**x**

“Bilbo?” Fíli asked, staring at something in the sitting room as said hobbit helped with the company’s cloaks.

“Yes?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but…” The blonde continued before motioning. “Why is your fireplace so messy?”

Bilbo let out a sigh, and he saw Kíli in the corner of his eye hunching in on himself. “It’s a long story.”


	16. Jumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gives Bifur a gift, and Bofur's protective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some Bilbo/Bifur because why not. Also did fem!Bifur because whyyy not. Also did Modern!AU because whyyyyy nooooot.

Bifur was a rather sweet woman, Bilbo had thought. A genius, no matter what the world had to say about those who couldn’t speak or hear. She always had a bit of a wild appearance, and was rather introverted, but she would still help someone. Still smile. Still got rather more excitable around the holidays, even though some of the light displays around houses around that time would give her horrible headaches. She was lovely, in his eyes, no matter what scars she had.

Bilbo never dared to try anything towards her, though. He was his best friend’s cousin, though he might as well have been her older brother with how protective he was. While Bofur and him were thick as thieves, the man would never approve of anyone dating her, and that included Bilbo. Especially Bilbo, if he was being honest. 

Bombur seemed quite the opposite in that regard. While he didn’t approve of most of the men that seemed interested in Bifur, he seemed to think Bilbo was good enough. Always sending him to give thinks to her with a wink and a nudge. 

Which was what he was doing now with a mug of cocoa, even though he already had a reason to head out to find her. It was a holiday party for friends and family that they were hosting. Well, it was mostly family, and he was the only friend, but it was nice regardless. Even though the ruckus and noise were causing Bifur problems and she had gone outside, she had enjoyed it, even though it was too much stimulation. 

That was why Bilbo found her outside, sitting on a bench in the backyard that was haphazardly wiped of snow. And of course she wasn’t wearing a jacket. She was always one to go as long as she could without.

She must’ve seen her shadow, or had turned on a whim, but she saw him before he could get too close. Her smile was slightly strained, clearly she was fighting a headache, and she waved.

“Hello.” He said, doing his best to wave back with both hands full. He gave her the mg Bombur put in his hands, which she took with a curious gaze. “Bombur wanted me to give this to you.”

He signed as best he could (he was still learning, after all), but she understood. Nodding a little, she took a sip and turned her gaze back towards the yard. He had a feeling she thought he would go back in to the party, but he had shown up with a bit of a purpose. 

Eventually she did notice, and she sent a small grin and shuffled to the side, and he grinned, thanking her before sitting down. She frowned when she noticed the parcel that he had under his arm, and she asked about it.

“Well, er…” He muttered before signing his response. “It’s a gift. For you.”

She scowled at him. “No presents.” She signed. “Naughty.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the little rule her cousins had made. “I know, but…” He says, eventually putting it in her hands. “Here.”

Bifur let out a breath, almost like a sigh before signing her thanks with a quick smile and then tearing at the package with absolutely no finesse. He just watched, anxious, as she pulled at the paper and the box to reveal what was inside.

It was a silly thing, really. Just a little way to show he cared about her. It wasn’t a simple gift, since it took ages, but it still seemed rather foolish to think it would be a good gift.

But her eyes lit up when she saw it, fingering the knitted material before beaming, pulling it free and letting the packaging fall to the ground, forgotten. 

A jumper, that’s what it was. A simple jumper that was a deep green in color. Something that seemed to suit her just right. There were no frills, no fancy cables or patters, but she happily buried her face in the material and breathed it in for a few moments. Eventually, she lifted her head again, signing her thanks and he waved it off.

“Where?” She asked curiously, still smiling.

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“Where? Buy where?”

“Buy wh-… _Oh_!” Bilbo exclaimed, now realizing that she was asking where he bought it. He did his best to explain with what symbols he knew. “Er, not buy. I made it.”

Bifur’s eyes widened slightly, emotions flickering before she stared back at the jumper. Truly, he was worried, especially seeing as her face went bright red before she hid it in the wool. She made no noise, hardly seemed to move, but she was trembling like a leaf.

“Bif?” He asked, gently touching her shoulder. “Bif, are you-?”

Before he could finish, she launched at him, giving him a firm, almost painful kiss. He barely had time enough to respond as well as he could before she pulled back. He blinked at her a few times, even as her expression softened. Eventually, she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before she stood, throwing the jumper on and heading inside.

Bilbo couldn’t help but chuckle, almost blindsided by her behavior. Eventually, he bent down to pick up the garbage and stood to head inside himself.

“Don’t.”

Bilbo jumped, freezing when he saw Bofur standing in the doorway, arms crossed and face grim.

“P-Pardon?” He asked.

“I know what you’re thinking, Bilbo, but don’t.” His friend said. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Something cold settled in his belly, far colder than the chill outside. “Are… Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying that she can’t handle another guy leaving her because he can’t deal.” Bofur pressed. “Believe me, she can be hard to live with. Don’t be stupid. Just don’t.”

Now Bilbo bristled, the cold being replaced by hot anger. “I would’ve thought you had higher hopes than this, Bofur.” He said, marching around his friend. “I’m not as callous or cold as that.”

With that, Bilbo went to rejoin the party, leaving Bofur standing in the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whyyyyyyyyy nooooooooooot.


	17. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Bilbo and Dwalin decorate their home, and Fíli and Kíli help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some Dwilbo with Fíli and Kíli being little shits.

When it came to the holidays, Bilbo was always the last person to ever have his decorations up. If he was really ambitious, he would have them up a week into December. Though usually they would actually be up one week before Christmas.

It was hardly a problem. He liked the holiday, but never really celebrated with anyone. He would put them up to show his spirit, then put them away before New Year’s and be done with it. 

Then a new teacher joined the staff named Bofur, who introduced him to his relatives. Mainly, his gruff yet handsome cousin Dwalin, and the holidays were never the same since.

It wasn’t always a good thing, though.

“This was a bad idea.” Bilbo muttered, trying to detangle the lights as Dwalin finished putting the top on the tree. He spared a glance towards Fíli and Kíli, the boys they were asked to watch over whilst their uncle, Dwalin’s cousin Thorin, went out on a date. Said boys were putting together his mother’s old nativity set.

“Well, look at it this way.” Dwalin stated, stepping back and making sure the tree wasn’t crooked. “At least it’ll all be done with plenty of time to enjoy them.”

Bilbo sighed, nodding in agreement as he frowned, for he was sure there wasn’t a knot there before.

It was his fault in the first place, really. He brought the decorations up the day before, and the boys had seen them when they walked in, and begged and begged to help decorate their little place for the holidays. 

“If anything,” Dwalin said, crouching down next to him. “It’s bound to be interesting.”

Bilbo sent his partner a bland look. “I remember what they did to Thorin’s front yard.”

“I thought it was very clever.”

“It was _crude_ , not clever.” Bilbo defended, looking back at the boys as they began to organize the set. “How did they even manage to get that Santa to pose as if he’s giving the middle finger, anyhow?”

Dwalin just chuckled. “Just ingenuity.” He said, giving Bilbo a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll get the cocoa and the biscuits, then.”

“Don’t hog them all!” Bilbo called, deciding to put crude Santas out of his mind. The boys, despite their sense of humor, were good boys. Respected property and their elders most of the time. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad, having them help out, he thought.

Then he saw what they were doing to the Nativity scene.

“Fíli! Kíli! That King is _not_ supposed to be humping the donkey!”


	18. Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes Kíli ice skating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward ending is awkward, but enjoy some fem!Kíli Kilbo anyway!

Despite her grace in other aspects of his life, there were a few things Kíli could not do. She couldn’t swim (Bilbo couldn’t either), couldn’t dance, (Bilbo was worse at it), and couldn’t do anything related to housework (Bilbo preferred to do it himself anyhow).

But there was one thing Kíli had confessed that she had never even tried to that surprised him, and that was why he dragged them out to where they were now.

“I can’t believe you’ve never ice-skated before.” Bilbo mused aloud as he watched her do up her laces.

“What, parade around on a giant block of ice?” Kíli quipped. “Forgive me if that doesn’t seem like too much fun.”

“I always thought it was.” He replied, growing wistful. “My parents used to take me every year.”

“My uncle preferred going over our katas.” Kíli said after a moment, pausing with her task. “There’s a reason why I was a black belt before I was ten.”

Bilbo giggled, and she grinned, even as he batted her hands away and moved to do the laces himself. “Trust me, it’s not that hard.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” She said, leaning back. “I’ve seen videos. Heard stories. My brother tried to do it himself, ended up with a bruised tailbone.”

“Yes, I heard that one.” Bilbo said, grinning at her. “From what I gathered, that was because he thought he could do a triple axel not five minutes after getting on the ice.”

Now Kíli laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.” She said, wriggling her feet to test for comfort. “I hope you’re not going to make me do that. Are you?”

“Even I won’t do that.” Bilbo said, getting up and taking Kíli’s hand. “Ready?”

“No.” She stated, voice flat, even though she grinned and took his head. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

They stumbled and tripped, and that was before they even got on the ice. Kíli felt bad, for she would always lose her balance and fall, and Bilbo, ever a gentleman, would hold her all the way down. Despite the pain and the possible bruises, he never requested that she stopped falling. Only encouraged her and helped her get back up.

Eventually, though she was still a bit nervous, she managed to start moving with a bit more ease. Gliding around the rink with Bilbo’s hand in hers, not once touching the side wall. 

“I admit,” Kíli said after they managed to move away from the wall. “This is a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

“Good.” Bilbo said, pulling her to him, even though she wobbled unsteadily. “I’m glad.”

She smiled, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder, sticking her hands underneath his jacket and getting as close as possible.

“Stop that! You’re cold!”

“Well, you’re warm, so shush.”


	19. Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Kilbo that's kind of along the lines of all the "Kíli tries and fails to be helpful" fics.

Bilbo felt wholly and truly accomplished. The feast he had laid out for his old company was a success. Moreso than the last one, certainly, for he was actually prepared this time. It was good to see his old friends. Good to laugh with them again, and to see them so happy and content, with no shadows of a quest to taint their merriment. 

It was the most fun he had in Bag End in a while.

Unfortunately, Kíli was nowhere in sight.

He left the group to their festivities and went on a search, doing his best to avoid going outside, for the nights were far too cold for comfort these days. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid it for long, since his search throughout the entire house was a rather fruitless endeavor.

After slipping on a cloak (his or Ori’s, he couldn’t tell anymore), he braved the cold, thankful that Kíli was in fact right outside on the bench.

“Kíli?” He broached, walking down the steps to join him. “Kíli, what are you doing out here? Dinner’s started.”

Kíli sighed, breath foggy, and Bilbo was quite relieved that he was wearing his cloak. “It’s nothing, Bilbo.” He said, and he sounded rather miserable. “Just… I’m just thinking.”

Bilbo hummed in response before taking a seat next to him. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, love, but that’s never a good sign.” He said, scooting close. “Tell me what’s on your mind? Please?”

The dwarf let out another breath, a shaky one this time. “It’s just…” He started, raking fingers through his hair. “You’ve done so much. You always do so much, even when it’s not getting the place ready for guests, and I… I do nothing. And I try, I really do, but every time I do something, I always muck it up somehow.”

“Oh, Kíli, that’s not true…”

“I almost burned the roast, I tore half the decorations down when I was trying to put up the mistletoe, I got gravy on your good tablecloth, and I almost burned Bag End down!” Kíli cried. “Tell me how that’s not true!”

Bilbo winced, because Kíli seemed rather distraught over the entire matter. It wasn’t a strange twist, though. Kíli was never good at doing housework of any kind. He did try, the dear, but it always went straight to who knows where when he did. It was why Bilbo did pretty much everything around the house except for the things that required a lot of muscle. 

“Anyway…” Kíli continued, looking down at his feet. “I just… I’m just bad at being a good husband. And I just wonder why you keep me because I can never do anything right!”

“Now, you stop right there, Kíli!” Bilbo snapped, causing the dwarf to look at him. “Yes, it’s true, all those things happen. Same as they always do when you do them. But I’ve always preferred to do those things by myself, and you know that. And yes, I appreciate the help, but most of it are things I like to see to on my own. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Kíli looked at the ground again, and Bilbo put a hand on his arm.

“You do help, though. You might not be able to cook a roast, but you can shoot it and bring it home because I didn’t like the ones at the market.” He continued on. “You help me move furniture and with cleaning the bigger things. You’re wonderful with everyone, and scare of Lobelia, as well. But you would be a good husband regardless of being able to do any of those things for a couple important reasons. And they’re very important, I assure you.”

Kíli blinked, having listened and waited for him to continue. “What are they?”

Bilbo just smiled, caressing Kíli’s stubbly cheek with the back of his hand. “You make me happy, and I love you so very much.” He told him, earning a small smile. “Despite the messes you seem to create in my smial every week.”

He laughed then, bright and almost relieved, even as he leaned into Bilbo’s touch. “Thank you, Bilbo.” He said. “And I love you, as well.”

“Of course you do.” Bilbo replied, earning a snort as he kissed that grinning mouth. “Now, come on! Let’s go in and join our friends.”

Bilbo stood, offering his hand that Kíli took gladly as he stood as well. “And then…” He said, smile turning a little Tookish. “Once we’re done with the feast, I was hoping that, afterwards, we would have a feast of our own.”

“Oh?” The dwarf murmured, clearly confused.

“A private feast. Just the two of us..” Bilbo said, raising his eyebrows lightly for emphasis.

“ _Oh_.” Kíli exclaimed, his own grin turning rather mischievous. “Really?”

“Yes… But only after!”

“Oh, Mahal’s flaming-!”

“Language!”


	20. Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin was a man on a mission
> 
> So was Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some wee!Bilbo and Dwalin fluffy times for all.

Dwalin was a man on a mission. A very important mission. One of life or death, in fact. 

… Well, perhaps not life or death exactly, but it certainly felt like it.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault that, despite his failings in the kitchen, Thorin had somehow always managed to excel in making a really good pudding. It was one of the most sought after dishes around Yule, and one Dwalin hardly ever managed to get a piece of. It certainly didn’t help that Thorin would save most of it for a certain miner-slash-toymaker and his family. Such things didn’t change once his friend and king finally worked up the courage to court him. 

Dwalin sometimes hated Bofur, if only because he always got what he wanted, which were desserts such as the figgy pudding Thorin had slaved over to protect.

It was a risk, daring to sneak a piece before dinner. But if he wanted a decent amount of it, he was going to go through with his plans.

Unfortunately, when he entered the kitchen, he realized he wasn’t the only one who was risking life and limb for the treat. For little Bilbo was standing there, holding a stool that was conveniently placed near it.

Dwalin looked at those big green eyes as they widened into an expression fit for a child caught with his hands in the biscuit jar. There were no jars, or biscuits, involved, but it was very similar.

“Bilbo?” He asked the child. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” The hobbit piped, shuffling awkwardly. “I… I mean I certainly wasn’t- What I mean is…!”

He should scold the child, Dwalin knew. Thorin probably would if he were in this position. But he was after the same thing, so he would’ve been a mighty big hypocrite if he did. Something he loathed to become.

“Don’t… Don’t tell Papa…” Bilbo continued, truly worried to the point of tears, now. “Please don’t!”

Dwalin almost flinched, because despite everything he did for the boy, Bilbo still seemed to have a lingering fear that Thorin would send him away if he did something wrong. Even when his old friend had proven to Bilbo on a number of occasions that such things would not happen. 

“At ease, lad.” He finally said, approaching Bilbo. “If it helps, I was after the same thing.”

Bilbo huffed, smiling a little as Dwalin ruffled his curly hair. During their last visit in the Shire, Hamfast’s mother taught him how to trim his hair around his braids, and he had taken to doing so. Something that almost gave Thorin a heart attack when he first saw the boy with his shorn locks, and something that he had to get used to: How his boy was like a dwarf in many ways, but still like a hobbit in others, and it was perfectly alright.

“I’m sorry, but… It just smelled really good, and since Fíli and Kíli took the last of the biscuits…” Bilbo muttered, and Dwalin had to remember to go after the boys for such a deed later. “I… I was only going to sneak a small piece. From somewhere he wouldn’t notice.”

“And how would you do that?” Dwalin asked, and he couldn’t help but grin along with the little boy, even when he looked rather impish.

“Want me to show you?”

“Absolutely.”

**x**

“Dwalin!” Thorin called, entering the sitting room where his friend sat with Bilbo in his lap as the boy whispered about the presents he got for everyone and where he hid them. Both the warrior and the child looked at Thorin with wide, innocent eyes. Something he had grown immune to over the years.

“Dwalin, why is the pudding I left on the counter hollow on the inside?”

Dwalin shrugged, the taste still lingering in his mouth. “Haven’t the faintest.”

Bilbo burped, Thorin sighed, and Dwalin laughed.


	21. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli brings his girlfriend home for the holiday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here: Some Kilbo for the happy party time! With a fem!Bilbo!

He parked as far up the driveway as he could without blocking anyone in and killed the engine. Afterwards he sat back, staring at his family home lit up like a holiday beacon with an array of santas, snowmen, and reindeer. His family loved to decorate their home for the holidays, and especially loved to keep it as tacky as possible. 

“Right!” Kíli said, smiling as his stomach bubbles with nerves and excitement as he turned to look at Bilbo. “Well, we’re here. You ready for the party?”

Bilbo let out a puff of air as she played with the bottle of wine in her lap. “Well, I’m a little nervous, to be honest…” She said, looking at him. “First time meeting them, after all. Besides your brother and uncle of course, so I already know that one of them hates me.”

“Thorin doesn’t _hate_ you.” He argued, as he had done. Many times before. “He’s just… he’s just very overprotective. Everyone is, really. We’re a close-knit family, and I’m the baby, so…”

He shrugged, trailing off, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Hey.” He said, reaching over to pull her close so they could touch foreheads. “They’re going to love you. Don’t you worry.”

Bilbo sighed, eyes squeezed shut. “I just hope we don’t have a repeat of what happened when I dragged you to _my_ family’s holiday party.”

Kíli winced, because that truly was a disaster. They didn’t want to go in the first place, since Bilbo and her parents were ostracized early on. But her cousin Prim had begged them to come, hoping to unite the family in the spirit of the holidays, so they agreed. 

Then they arrived, and Bilbo’s great aunt loudly asked why her “sweet old nephew was in drag”, and it just went to hell from there. They left after only being there for five minutes when Bilbo couldn’t hold back her angry, bitter tears any longer. 

“If it helps, my cousin Oin is a doctor who thinks he was abducted by aliens, and he’s still in the family.” He replied, and Bilbo huffed, mumbling how this was “just a bit different, love, so don’t even try”.

Eventually, she sniffed, lifting her head and squaring her jaw, determination leaking from every pore. It was something she did a lot, and it was the first thing he saw when they first met at the emergency vet clinic she worked at. He had brought his cat, Smaug, in because he got into the gold chocolate coins his brother gave him as a gag gift for his birthday. Smaug, his angry grump of a cat who hated everyone but Kíli himself, had fallen in love with Bilbo instantly. Just as he did.

“Alright.” She finally said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Kíli grinned, moving to do the same as she did, getting out of the car and moving to her side to watch as she stepped out of his vehicle with little grace and straighten the skirt of her dress. The dress he gave her as an early Christmas present after he saw her staring at a picture of it on the internet with a look of longing. One that she was very hesitant to wear, but adored. One that she looked absolutely breathtaking in.

“Shall we?” He asked, offering his arm that she took.

“We shall.”

They hobbled up the driveway, Kíli holding her steady as she sometimes slipped in the snow. It took a while, but they managed to make it to the front door and ring the doorbell. All the while, they could hear the people, Kíli’s family, shouting and singing over horrific Christmas songs.

“Last chance to back out.” He said, plastering on a smile.

“Might as well get it over with.” She replied, doing the same.

The timing was flawless, for as soon as she uttered those words, the door was thrown open and the music hit them full force. Kíli’s mother was on the other side, completely decked out in horrific holiday clothes and jewelry.

“Kíli!” Dís cried, throwing her arms open and crushing her youngest son in a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! So glad you could make it!”

“Mum, you saw me yesterday!” He hissed, feeling his face flame.

“Oh, hush! It’s still good to see you!” She replied, pulling back and giving him another grin before turning to Bilbo. “And it seems you managed to bring your girlfriend, too!”

“Bilbo Baggins, Missus-.” She started, but Dís waved her off.

“Just Dís is fine, dear. Now come here!” She said, pulling Bilbo into an equally bone-crushing embrace. When she pulled back, she held Bilbo by the shoulders as she looked her over. “It’s so good to finally meet you! Kíli talks a lot about you!”

“Oh really?” Bilbo replied, sending him a look and he sent her an innocent one right back. “I hope it wasn’t anything awful.”

“Well, he certainly didn’t tell us you’d be pretty. Now come in out of the cold!” Dís said, pulling Bilbo and, Kíli following in behind and shutting the door. She practically pulled their coats off their backs and took them to be hanged.

“What all did you tell her?” Bilbo asked, looking curious and a hair concerned.

“Only the important bits.” Kíli assured her. “Nothing you’d want me to divulge without your saying so.”

She looked relieved for only a few moments before Dís came back and grabbed her.

“Come along, dear. Time to introduce you to the family!” She said, guiding Bilbo into the living room, where most of the chaos was housed. “Boys! Come meet Kíli’s girlfriend!”

**x**

“I’ll never be able to eat anything again.” Bilbo announced the moment she collapsed onto their bed, having haphazardly removed her makeup and changed into her nightclothes. 

Kíli quirked an eyebrow, still working on brushing his teeth. “Really?” He asked around his toothbrush. “That’s something.”

“Oh, shut up.” She groused from her spot. “Your mother plied me with more food than I ever ate in one sitting.”

Kíli snorted, spitting and rinsing his mouth out. “That’s true.”

“And I won’t be able to dance ever again.” She drawled, and he hummed. “Or sing. Or laugh. My goodness, everything hurts!”

“Well,” Kíli said, turning the lights off and crawling under the covers. “In the end, I was right, wasn’t I?”

Bilbo hummed in question and he smiled at her before continuing. “They loved you. Just as I said they would.”

She smiled at him in that pleased, sleepy way she would before she would cuddle close, which she actually did shortly after. “They didn’t just love me.” She murmured. “They _adored_ me.”

They way Bilbo said it, it was almost like she didn’t believe it. It was a shame, certainly, that the world would make her think that such things only existed in fiction. That every family would look at someone like her and immediately scorn her.

And they knew, not that something like that was an obvious thing. But Oin was a doctor, Ori had a wide range of friends, and his family wasn’t as blind as most might think. But such things didn’t matter. Because Bilbo was who she was. She was lovely, and made Kíli happy most importantly of all. That was all that mattered. Even when Thorin still had a stick up his arse over the fact that one of the heirs to the Durin fortune wanted to settle down with a veterinarian of all people.

“Well,” He finally muttered, kissing her on the forehead before closing his eyes to sleep. “They don’t adore you as much as I do.”

“Oh, shut up and go to sleep, you silly oaf.” Bilbo groused between giggles. “And I find you adorably tolerable, myself.”

“Well, love you too.”

“Just go to sleep, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't muck this up too much.


	22. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Presents are exchanged… all except two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern Dwilbo AU, with fem!Dwalin!
> 
> Because the idea of a modern Dwilbo with a fem!Dwalin is something that is currently fused into my brain.

“Do you think we did good this year?”

Dwalin hummed an affirmative, leaning back in her seat as she watched Frodo dash off with his new handheld game device. They had worked especially hard to look for presents for him this year, hoping to at least take his mind off the fact that his parents weren’t with them anymore for a little while. She had even gone to Thorin and his nephews for advice, and that was only because she was out of options and Bilbo still thought he was six years old.

“I think so.” She finally stated, stretching her legs as Bilbo took a seat on the arm of the chair she took for herself. “He certainly enjoyed himself. Especially the unwrapping part.”

Bilbo snorted. “Well, that’s true.” He said. “And you? Did you really like the boots?”

“I certainly do.” She said, wriggling her toes in said boots. “And the books you got me. Truly, love, thank you.”

He hummed, kissing her forehead and she looked up at him.

“And did you like what I got you?”

Bilbo snorted. “Yes, even the lock-picking kit.” He said. “Didn’t think you’d be one for gag gifts.”

Dwalin laughed. “Well, it’s better than going to Gandalf for the spare keys whenever you lock yourself out of the house!” She cried. “And, truthfully, those were only some of your gifts.”

He perked up a little. “Oh?”

“Yes, well, there’s two others.” She explained, leering up at her husband. “One, you’ll have to wait to receive until after Frodo goes to bed.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, indeed.” Dwalin replied, only allowing him to have a sweet, chaste kiss instead of one that lingered with heat. “There is another…”

“And where is it?” He asked, all impish and flirtatious that Dwalin just had to laugh. Even when this was supposed to be big, it was turning silly.

“Yes, well… I’m afraid it’s not going to be here for a while.” She confessed, watching his face fall slightly, and she bit her lip to stave off a grin. “You’re not going to be getting it until all the way into September.”

She watched with baited breath as Bilbo frowned, deeply confused as he mulled it over. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take long to catch on to his meaning, as his face lifted.

“Oh… Oh, _really_?” He breathed, hand stretching towards her. Hesitant. Hopeful. Better than what she ever dared to fear.

Dwalin beamed up at him, taking his straying hand and pressing it firm against her middle. “Really.”

He laughed, a high and joyous sound, giving her a squeeze. “I can’t believe it!” He cried, pulling her as close as possible, practically falling into her lap in his excitement. “We’re… We’re going to-! And after all this time…!”

She laughed with him, sputtering a little when he littered kisses on what he could reach. Eventually, she held him firm against her mouth, pulling back with a teary smile.

“Merry Christmas, dad.”


	23. Snowball Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some snowy fun in the Shire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Hobbit of Ered Luin ficcie goodness. Because I can't resist.

It had been a very long time since he had been in the Shire when it snowed. Bilbo had to thank his papa’s faulty travel plans that gifted him with such an old sight. He knew Thorin didn’t plan to meet with snowfall, and had hoped that none would come until they were well on their way back to the mountains. But Bilbo woke that morning with the light strangely bright. Had looked out the window to see the rolling hills, once green despite the time of year, now stark white. 

The best part of this snowfall, however, was that no one told him he wasn’t allowed to play in it. That he would get in trouble, get _hurt_ if he dared. Despite how he cursed their luck at being snowed in the Shire for longer than they planned, when Bilbo had kindly asked Thorin for permission, he had given it with a tired smile. 

He barely had time enough to put on a cloak before he was barreling through the cold powder, hearing Fíli and Kíli call to him as he did so. Because they wanted to join in the fun, too. Because they always played in the snow together. 

It was all rather innocent fun, in the end. They tackled each other and wrestled until they were caked with it. Built fortresses and made people by falling into clear patches. It was all Bilbo needed for a good morning before elevensies, and he hoped something hot and sweet to drink would be waiting once they were done.

Then Thorin came out, followed by Dwalin and Bofur. Bofur, who managed to find time to join them on this trip, even though his family didn’t join them(“an early honeymoon” Bombur had called it, even though Bilbo had no idea what that meant.). Who watched Bilbo and the youngest dwarrows play, laughing all the while.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Papa!?” Bilbo cried, rushing up to stand in front of him, the snowflakes tickling his nose slightly. “There’s just so much!”

“It is wonderful in a sense.” Thorin replied, rubbing at his face. “I just wish that the timing was better.”

“Cheer up!” Bofur chided, smacking his intended on the back. “For all we know, all of this will be gone by-!”

The miner’s words were cut off with a cry as a ball of snow whizzed into view and landed squarely on the back of little Bilbo’s head. He fell to his knees, mostly in surprise, as Dwalin chewed out the two young dwarrows and Thorin kneeled down to check him.

“Bilbo, are you alright?” He asked, hearing his boy sniffle.

“’M fine, Papa.” He muttered, looking up with tears glistening at the edges. “Really. I’m fine.”

Thorin then stood, aiming a glare at his nephews as they sputtered out apologies.

“We’re sorry!” Kíli cried. “Bilbo, we didn’t meant to hit you!”

“I was aiming for Kíli!” Fíli stated. “But the idiot ducked!”

“Of course I ducked!” His brother snapped. “You were aiming at my hammer!”

“I was practicing my aim towards _small_ targets!”

As the two brothers bickered, Bofur watched Bilbo and tried to comfort the lad. It was after a few moments when it seemed that his tears cleared instantly and a determined gleam glinted in his eyes as he quietly gathered and packed together a snowball and, before anyone could prevent otherwise, whipped around and chucked at Fíli. 

It hit the blonde on the side of his face, causing him to squawk and both Bilbo and Kíli to cackle.

“Revenge is at hand!” Kíli crowed, only to sputter when another ball of snow hit his ear.

Bilbo only giggled rather manically as he began to run, packing up snowballs to throw as he went as Fíli and Kíli took chase.

Thorin, who had been watching the display frozen in shock, let out a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe that happened.” He muttered. “I knew I shouldn’t have worried.”

“Ah, boys.” Bofur jeered, chuckling and rubbing at Thorin’s shoulder. “They truly are the greatest mischief makers.”

The prince hummed, watching and wincing as Bilbo managed to land a hit on Fíli’s own “hammer”. 

“Thorin.”

“Hmm?” He hummed lightly in question, only to yelp indignantly as he felt something cold and wet fall through the back of his clothes and down his back. He stared at a cackling Bofur in shock before he finally growled, gathering some snow into his hands.

“The chase is afoot!” Bofur crowed, ducking a snowball before running off, Thorin hot on his tail.

Dwalin watched both snowball fights from a distance, torn between sighing at childish behavior and laughing at it. It was silly, and perhaps a bit useless, but it was good to see them all unwind. Good to see the troubles melt from his friends’ faces as he allowed himself this one childish moment.

That is, until he got a snowball to the face. Then, there was no mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's curious: In this verse, the Fell Winter is going to happen during a more canon part of the timeline, when Bilbo is older (that's how I planned it now. I can't remember if I mentioned it yet in any of the actual fics. If I did, well, WHOOPS!). Yes, I have a fic planned out for it. No, Thorin is NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.


	24. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is not a morning person, and is mad at Canada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern Dwilbo crack. Also, I feel like I should say that I DO NOT HATE CANADA! Canada seems like a lovely place even though i've only ever been there once and only for a little bit and didn't really get the Canada experience, so...

Bilbo loved days off, especially around the holidays. He wasn’t horrifically ill (usually), so he could actually enjoy it. He could take his time preparing and eating delicious meals, curl up with his partner, and sleep the day away. Unfortunately, said partner was off on a business trip that trickled over Christmas, so he was left in a bit of a strop over that. So while he was still perturbed by Thorin actually thinking it was a good idea to take Dwalin with him on business, he still managed to do the things he loved. Even when he was lonely and would be celebrating the holiday later than expected. 

He was in bed, enjoying one of said perks of days off, which was sleeping in, when the doorbell rang clearly throughout the house. He groaned tiredly, rubbing at his face and groaning louder when he saw the time. It was a terrible sight, for someone had the gall to stop by on Christmas morning at six, when Frodo wasn’t expected until noon and waking him up much earlier than he wanted. 

He was tempted to go back to sleep as a silent way of telling the rude person to bugger off, but the doorbell went off, and the person was holding it down. Clearly, he would not take to the silent treatment well.

“Yes, yes, alright!” He shouted, fumbling with the covers and crawling out of bed. “I hear you! _I hear you_! I’m coming!”

The doorbell continued on with its ringing, even as Bilbo threw on his housecoat and ambled down the stairs towards the door.

“Oh, yes, please do continue ringing that doorbell!” Bilbo shouted muzzily as he did his best to wake up. “This was a brilliant idea of yours, waking someone up when no one should be up on a holiday! I can’t believe the nerve of some…!”

He trailed off when he finally opened the door to see the one person he didn’t dare to hope to see on Christmas morning. The person whom he had been living with for almost two years. The person he was actually thinking about giving the ring he had bought and wrapped and stuck in the very tree in their living room.

“Surprise!” Dwalin stated, taking his finger off the doorbell and smiling down at Bilbo tiredly. “Sorry about that, but I left my key back in Canada.”

“What did… You… How…?” Bilbo sputtered and Dwalin shrugged.

“The deal was cut earlier than expected. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to be home for Christmas.” He answered, opening his arms. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“ _Oh_ …” Bilbo groused tiredly, even as he stepped over and embraced Dwalin tightly around his middle, feeling the cold and his arms wrap around him. “Oh, I hate you and love you right now, Dwalin Fundinson. I want to both kiss you and smash your head in with my best cast iron.”

“Love you, too.” Dwalin said around a chuckle, easily guiding them inside with his bags and shutting the door. “And as I said, sorry. I know how you get when you don’t get enough sleep, and my original plan was to sleep into bed without you noticing. Then the key. In Canada.”

“Bugger Canada.”

“Now, be nice. It wasn’t Canada’s fault.”

“It is. It very much is.” Bilbo slurred as he looked up. “Come to bed. We’re going right back to bed, now. ‘S the only way I’ll ever forgive you. And Canada.”

“Isn’t Frodo coming by?” Dwalin asked, even as he threw his coat off and left it on the floor. If Bilbo was more conscious, he would’ve done something about it. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t. “Shouldn’t we, you know, get dinner ready.”

“Won’t be here until noon. Made everything ahead of time.” Bilbo continued, tugging Dwalin along. “Now come. Come and sleep.”

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Dwalin said, laughing as he allowed Bilbo to drag him up the stairs. “We’re going to go up and sleep.”

“Yes, sleep. Sleep sleep sleep.”

“So you can forgive me.”

“And Canada.”

“And Canada.” Dwalin agreed, smiling a little wider as they finally reached their bedroom, allowing Bilbo to tiredly fumble with his clothes for a while before he finally stripped down to his underwear himself. Bilbo grumbled happily and flopped into bed, housecoat and all, and Dwalin followed suit.

“Sleep now.” Bilbo mumbled happily as he snuggled in close, kissing Dwalin on the chin a couple of times. “Forgive Canada later.”

“Of course, love.” Dwalin agreed. “Sometimes, though, I wish I record these encounters. Wonderful blackmail material.”

“It could go with my own.” Bilbo muttered and Dwalin laughed. “By the way, Dwalin?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”


	25. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo never expected presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST DAY!!! LAST CHAPTER!!! Thought I'd end this on a light/slightly angsty note with some more wee!Bilbo. Perhaps I'll add another chapter or two, with other spins on Family. But right now, ENJOY!!!
> 
> AND MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HOLIDAYS/HAPPY WEDNESDAY!!!

Bilbo remembers his first true Yule with his family.

He had been staying with them for over a year, truly being adopted by them not long ago. The previous Yule had flitted by, partially because money was scarce, but mostly because Thorin forgot. This time, however, they were doing well with a bit of money to spare, and Thorin was certain not to forget the first holiday he would spend with Bofur and his family.

Bilbo honestly didn’t expect any gifts. He was lucky to get anything after his parents died, and honestly, Thorin and the others had already given him so much already. He almost felt selfish for asking for, possibly, another toy or a book when pressed. 

When the day finally arrived, Bilbo made certain that everyone got their respective gifts. Bofur had taught him a little whittling (under Thorin’s careful eye of course) and wire-bending (again, under Thorin’s eye), so he made little trinkets and beads for their hair and beards along with notes he worked hard on, Balin helping with his letters. They expressed his thanks and gratitude towards them, along with expressing his love for each and every one of them. He didn’t know why they were so teary-eyed after receiving them, for it was all truth. Thorin had even excused himself from company for a few moments before he came back, red-eyed but smiling, then sweeping Bilbo up into a great big hug and littering his face with a dozen or so kisses. Everyone kissed and hugged him that day. And really, their happiness was the greatest gift of all.

So he was shocked beyond belief when they urged him to sit and they all gave him parcels, Thorin, Bofur, Fíli and Kíli giving him multiple. He was surrounded with them, an entire field of presents in his eyes, and he asked who they were all for and why they gave them to him. He had to be told a multitude of times that they were all for him before he allowed himself to truly believe it.

There were toys in many, from beautifully whimsical sculptures to incredibly soft animals. There were books in different languages, some he knew and some he didn’t, and he got promises from everyone that they would help him read them. There were tunics and breeches, beads and hair ties, and brushes for the hair on his head and the hair on his feet.

Each and every gift was a treasure, and he cried, because he had never been given such wonderful things since he was truly little. He thanked them all multiple times, up and down, and promised to cherish each and every thing. They acted as if it was a completely natural thing, but for Bilbo it was so much more.

Eventually, the festivities died down, and Bilbo had eventually picked a single stuffed cat to hold instead of trying to hold every single gift in his hands before relaxing on the sofa with Thorin. He snuggled against his papa’s chest, soothed by the song he started humming and the fingers he carded through his hair. Bofur sat next to them, pulling them both close as they eased back. Then there was Fíli and Kíli, who managed to squeeze in as well. Dwalin and Balin couldn’t stay, but they gave their best wishes and said their farewells and Bilbo made sure he hugged them both one last time before they left.

As Bilbo nestled close, he couldn’t help but be thankful to the Valar for giving him such a wonderful gift. One that couldn’t be wrapped.

“Thank you…” He had whispered into Thorin’s chest, mostly asleep and warmer than ever. “Thank you for my family…”


End file.
